The Diary of Wilhelm Klink
by Binca
Summary: Before he died, Wilhelm Klink wrote his diary, his memories of his life after the war, and left them for Schultz. Rated T for future chapters. WARNING: Mention of character death.
1. Chapter 1

_Here lies_

_Anne Marie Klink_

_1902 – 1973_

_and her loving husband_

_Wilhelm Klink_

_1900-1974_

The sun shone during and after the funeral, an ironic symbol of happiness which none of the handful of guests felt. Each guest sat or stood silently, lost in their own private thoughts and memories. One large man sat alone, an old diary clutched in one hand and an envelope in the other. After a moment's hesitation, he opened the envelope.

_My Dear Hans,_

_Since the end of the war you have been my closest friend. I still remember that conversation we had, finding out that we both used almost the same tactics to survive the war and upset the Nazi war effort. Both of us pretended to be incredibly unintelligent as a cover for our activities. You managed to save the lives of many Jewish people, and I "accidentally" sabotaged many Nazi plans. We both managed to upset a large amount of the Nazi army with our "stupidity." And we both managed to keep the prisoners as safe as was possible. Although I must admit, Hogan did manage to pull the wool over my eyes more than I would like – I was astounded at just how extensive his operation was._

_I know, I'm rambling. I always do, and I seem to do it more as I get older. But it is because you are my closest friend in this world that I leave you the two dearest things in my life._

_Firstly I leave my Belgian Shepherd, Monique. Ever since the war, when Hogan pointed out they make better guard dogs than German Shepherds, I have wanted one. So as you must remember, I finally bought Monique eight years ago. I have lived out all of my life's dreams since the war finished. I finally had a good holiday in France, I married Anne, I lived a comfortable, happy life, and eventually Anne encouraged me to buy Monique._

_Monique is getting on now, so even thought she will tell you otherwise, she is only capable of short walks. She is very well trained, and would be happy to sleep inside at night – on your bed if you let her. She loves to sit by you when you read, and she will spend all day cuddling you if she can. Her favourite toy is that stuffed teddy you, Hans, gave her when I first got her. She will eat anything you feed her, and is great at getting rid of leftovers and "doing" the dishes. If you are reading this, Gabriel from next door is taking care of her until you can pick her up. Please take good care of her._

_The other prized possession I leave you with is my diary, or memories. After Anne died I decided to write down what I could remember of my life from after the war – especially meeting Anne and getting married. Feel free to read it, otherwise please just keep it safe for me._

_There is nothing else to say my friend, except farewell, and thank you for being the best friend I could ever have. Thank you._

_Your friend,_

_Wilhelm._

By the time he had finished reading; Hans Schultz had covered the letter with tears, and was forced to put it down to blow his nose. He remained silent for a few minutes longer, lost in memories of himself and Wilhelm Klink during and after the war.

Eventually, he stood, picked up the letter and the diary, and left.

oOoOoOoOo

"Well Monique, welcome to your new home," announced Hans as he led the Belgian Shepherd through the door. Monique entered slowly, her tail drooping as if she understood that her beloved Wilhelm was truly gone and that her new life would be with this man, Hans. Hans seemed friendly enough, but it wouldn't be the same as living with Wilhelm and Anne. She explored the house carefully, before eventually settling down on a rug in front of the nice fire Hans had set up for her.

Hans scratched her behind the ears, placed her favourite teddy next to her and then sat down on the nearest couch. He picked up Wilhelm's diary.

"Let's see what your old dad got up to in his life, eh Monique?"

oOoOoOoOo

_Author's Notes:_

_I know this might not seem fully in character, but I always imagined that Klink and Schultz were smarter than they acted, so I wanted to include that in the story. I also figured that both men would have changed after the war, and as they grew older._

_Please leave a review to tell me what you think._

_And to anyone who is wondering, I have not forgotten about my other story (One of Those Weeks), and I am currently working on that too._


	2. Chapter 2

_Warning: Brief description of abuse of prisoners, but nothing too graphic._

oOoOoOoOo

1945 – 1950.

Unfortunately the start of this diary is going to have to be a bit vague, because I don't remember everything that happened to me after Stalag 13 was liberated by the Americans. It feels like such a long time ago, and everything happened in a blur.

I know I was taken to Dachau, a camp formerly run by Nazis and then used by the Americans for many of their war crime trials. Many people, including myself, who were not war criminals, were taken there anyway until we were proven innocent.

I was not treated very well, although I can't fully blame the Americans, considering how we Germans treated so many allied prisoners of war. I had to share a small room with a single bed with four other people. We were forced to take it in turns to sit and sleep on the bed.

I know I deliberately sabotaged the Nazi war effort on more than one occasion, but I hid my tracks so well there was no proof of this, especially because my "disguise" was a bumbling idiot. My favourite trick was simply to frustrate the local Gestapo to the point where they often failed on their missions. If the Nazis had no idea that I had ruined a few of their plans, drugged a couple of generals and blown some things up, how could I expect the Americans to find out? As I lay or sat awake each day and night, all I could hope was that the prisoners at Stalag 13 reported that I was a humane Kommandant who followed the Geneva Convention to the best of my abilities.

I remember being shown around Dachau camp on numerous occasions, forced to see photos and dummies of dead people in gas chambers. As I stared in horror at the photos, trying my best not to vomit, I felt someone come up behind me and smack the back of my head, pushing my face into the wall. I distinctly heard a crack and could immediately feel blood running from my nose. Next to me, nine other people were also pushed into the wall of photos. All I could do was gently pinch my own nose to try and stem the bleeding.

As we were taken out of the room, I saw a group of ten more prisoners like myself being led in.

During my stay I heard lots of rumours, such as apparently the German guards of this camp were shot after they surrendered to the Americans. I also heard about the brutal treatment and even murders of German prisoners of war, although of course we were not considered prisoners of war because we were all "war criminals." We were denied the right to send any letters, not that I could think of anyone to write to. Both my parents were killed in an air raid during the war, and my brother was the unfortunate victim of a motor vehicle accident.

I don't know how long I was imprisoned in Dachau, although I'm sure it felt a lot longer than it was. Even so, I must have been a prisoner for at least six months, maybe longer. Eventually I was released with no charges, and later I found out it was thanks to Colonel Robert Hogan, the senior prisoner of war officer in Stalag 13.

I always knew he was up to something during his time as a prisoner, and I could tell when he was trying to pull the wool over my eyes. Usually I let him, because anything he could do to hurt the Nazi war effort was good in my opinion - although I didn't let on that I suspected him. Not too often anyway. I do admit though, that is attitude got up my nose at times so occasionally I tried to get back at him with tricks such as transferring Colonel Crittendon, a bumbling English idiot who outranked Hogan, to Stalag 13. This amused me greatly, and annoyed Hogan no end.

Anyway, as I later found out, Hogan had been running a full scale sabotage and rescue operation from underneath Stalag 13! I was astounded by the magnitude of it. Perhaps I had been acting like an idiot so much that I became one. But thanks to his operation, Hogan had a lot of influence after the war, and was able to get me released from Dachau, so for that I am forever grateful.

Once free, I chose to stay in Germany, even though I knew many Germans were fleeing. I received a letter from Karl Langenscheidt, a former guard at Stalag 13, in 1955, telling me that he had left for Australia and was now happily married with two children and a third on the way. I have kept in touch with him over the years since then, and even visited him in Australia once.

I spent my time from being free (I think it was in 1946, but I really didn't know at the time, and I still don't) until 1950 in Germany, making a living at first in any small way I could and then later I managed to get a job at the Schatze Toy Company. The Schatze Toy Company was then owned by Hans Schultz, former Sergeant of the Guard at Stalag 13 and also my best friend after the war. I am proud to say I still earned my job; I didn't get it just for being friends with the boss.

In 1950 I decided it was time to live one of my dreams; a holiday to France that would not go horribly wrong like the "holidays" I experienced during the war.

oOoOoOoOo

Hans Schultz put down the diary at this point and chuckled. He remembered quite clearly the unsuccessful holidays in France, having been there for most of them himself.

"You know Monique," he began, "Wilhelm was always determined to have a nice relaxing time in France during the war, and maybe pick up a pretty girl. He never got to do either thanks to Colonel Hogan and the French underground – he was lucky to get to the hotel he wanted in one piece with none of his possessions missing!"

Monique wagged her tail happily as Hans laughed again. She may not have been able to understand every word he said, but she knew the name "Wilhelm" and she recognised the sounds of the words in the diary because Wilhelm had read it to her too, while he was writing it.

Hans picked up the diary again, deciding to read a little more before making dinner.

"1950 – My finally successful holiday to France..."

oOoOoOoOo

_Author's Notes:_

_I did some research before writing this chapter and found out that Dachau was a camp formerly used by the Germans to gas Jewish prisoners, and then by the Americans for many war crime trials. The experiences described by Klink apparently did happen to Germans during their imprisonment in Dachau._

_P.S. I didn't want to write Klink's entire diary in italics, but if anyone would prefer it in this format, let me know. Thanks!_

_P.P.S. For anyone who is concerned, the next chapter will be lighter hearted!_


	3. Chapter 3

1950 – My finally successful holiday to France...

I remember being incredibly nervous when I finally arrived at my hotel in Paris. After my run of bad luck in France during the war, I wasn't sure my luck would be any better now. Especially when I was greeted by the owner of the hotel himself; Louis LeBeau, formerly Corporal LeBeau, a prisoner of Stalag 13 who was one of Colonel Hogan's main trouble makers. He is also an excellent chef, and used to cook for myself and guests occasionally, but I knew to never fully trust him.

"Monsieur Klink!" he greeted me cheerfully. If I still had my monocle, it would have fallen off my face. "Welcome to my hotel! Decided to try your luck in France again, have you? If you leave your bags by the door here, Claude will take them to your room for you."

I clutched my bags tighter, having had too much experience with my items being stolen in France. Seeing as the perpetrators had always been the Gestapo, the French underground or Colonel Hogan (mostly Hogan I suspect), I really shouldn't have had cause to be worried, but unfortunately old habits die hard and I chose not to let my bags out of my sight.

LeBeau smirked, although he tried to hide it. "Would you like me to take you up to your room now, monsieur?" he asked politely. Almost too politely I thought suspiciously, but I nodded and agreed anyway.

He led me up a flight of stairs, asking me on the way whether I could now see without my monocle.

"Not that it is really any of your business," I answered, not sure I wanted to divulge too much personal information to a man who had spent years tormenting me (even if it was for a good cause.) "But I have always been able to see just fine. I only wore the monocle for my own amusement." It also annoyed people, but I decided not to tell LeBeau everything.

LeBeau didn't respond; instead he had a thoughtful look on his face as he led me down a hallway and unlocked the last door on the left. He opened the door and allowed me to enter, handing me the key on my way through.

"Would you like any food or drink brought up to your room, monsieur?" he asked, still with that same suspiciously polite tone of voice.

"No, thank you," I responded, trying to sound equally polite. Unfortunately my voice was beginning to come out in the same terrified tone I had adopted around Hogan and his men during the war, and LeBeau noticed. He tried his best to hide his amusement, but I could see the gleam in his eyes and the slight twist of his lips. As he exit the room I sighed, knowing already that I was not looking forward to this holiday as much as I had been.

I sat down on the bed, telling myself that I could still make the best of it and avoid LeBeau as much as possible. I figured if he owned the place, how much time could he spend anywhere near me? Well, as it turned out, quite a lot, but I'll write about that later.

The room I had was quite simple, but still very nice, and it had everything I needed. The bed was a small double with a colour close to sky blue blankets and sheets, and matching pillows. The walls were a pale cream colour, and they looked like they had been painted recently. To the right of my bed was a window which overlooked the street outside – if people watching had been more of a hobby to me I could have amused myself no end without even having to leave my room. Above my bed hung a simple painting of some blue flowers; I guess that was to match the covers. I also had a small bedside table and a cupboard opposite my bed, which for me was ample storage.

I lay back on the bed, testing its level of comfort. It was amazing! It felt like I was floating on clouds, except with the added bonus of being solid enough that I wouldn't fall through. I looked around me again, and spotted a beautiful, black haired woman walking up to me wearing her bathing suit and carrying two glasses of champagne. I took the one she offered me, smiling my thanks and shifting over so she could join me on my cloud. Another woman then approached and, with a smile, began to massage my feet.

The feeling of her hands was divine! I almost forgot about the first woman until she reminded me of her presence by kissing my cheek. I turned my face towards her in hopes of a more intimate kiss, but unfortunately at that moment I was awoken by a knock on my door.

I groaned, opening my eyes and realising that I wasn't on a cloud and that I most certainly wasn't surrounded by beautiful women. The knock sounded again so I stood up and quickly checked my reflection in a small mirror attached to the cupboard. Every hair in place, I made my way over to the door, opening it slowly and feeling a little cautious in case it was LeBeau back again.

It wasn't.

I was greeted by a woman more beautiful than the ones in my dream. More beautiful in fact, than any other woman I had met before. She looked around my age, and was a little shorter than me. Her eyes were a stunning shade of blue that put my bed covers to shame, and her hair was flaming orange with just a few streaks of grey. She wore a simple blue dress to match her eyes, and when I noticed how well it showed off all the right features on her body, I realised I was possibly admiring her a little too closely. Oops!

"H... how can I help you?" I stammered, not knowing what to say and hoping she hadn't said anything to me while I was examining her body.

She responded with a small smile and a laugh, and I decided I liked her for even more than just her stunning looks. That smile and laugh made her seem like she was permanently in a state of delight. I then tuned into what she was telling me.

"I am so sorry monsieur; I do beg your pardon. I thought this was the room my sister was staying in, but obviously I must have got the number wrong."

And yes, I do remember what she said word for word because they were the first words she ever spoke to me.

"Oh," I answered, not actually sure what to say. "Well, umm, maybe she is in another room then?"

_Oh yes, way to state the obvious Klink._

"Yes, she must be," she responded.

We then proceeded to stare at each other awkwardly for what felt like hours, although most likely it would have only been a couple of seconds. I decided I should probably say something more appropriate and charming.

"Uhh, my name is Wilhelm. Wilhelm Klink."

She smiled and laughed again, while I continued to stand awkwardly.

"Nice to meet you Wilhelm," she responded. Gosh, her voice was just so sweet; for some reason it made me think of spring and flowers and fresh water. "My name is Anne. Anne Marie Dubois." She offered me her hand.

I decided to try for being gallant, even though that had failed for me on my past attempts. "I'm absolutely honoured to meet you Anne," I said, accepting her hand and kissing the back of it (and at the same time cleverly taking note that there were no rings on either hand). She smiled again, laughing a little louder than before. Her eyes were even more beautiful when she laughed.

While I was thinking about Anne's eyes, the door opposite mine opened and a younger version of Anne stepped out, shutting the door quickly behind her. This woman had the same red hair as Anne, but I immediately took note of looser fitting garments that hid her shape from view. Almost her entire body was covered and she wore a thick layer of makeup, although I could see traces of a bruise around her right eye. I later learned what that was from, but at the time I had no idea. She also looked exhausted and run down, and appeared to be favouring her left leg a little. Her face did light up when she spotted Anne though.

She greeted Anne fondly. The two sisters (with their looks it was quite obvious that they were) hugged in what was clearly delight, before making their way into Anne's sister's room, Anne once more telling me it was nice to meet me before shutting the door.

I stared at the back of the door in a daze for quite a few minutes, thinking over my meeting with Anne and realising over and over again that she was the most beautiful, gorgeous, stunning and sweet woman I had ever met. I also realised I was staring at a stranger's door and headed back into my own room to continue my rest. I dreamed I was on a cloud again, but this time the only woman there was Anne.

oOoOoOoOo

_Author's Note:_

_Sorry I didn't get this updated as early as I would have liked – I had intended to post chapters weekly. I managed to get very sick and land myself in hospital for a short time, but I am on the mend now, so I hope you all enjoyed chapter 3!_

_As always, reviews are very welcome. Hopefully I can get chapter 4 to you all a little sooner!_


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